I am the Sea
by Mistress Infinity
Summary: The tale of the Flying Dutchman's first quartermaster, Mairi Sinclair, and the fate she met.  Kind of a Jones/OC, but not really...  Just read it and see.
1. Chapter 1

Mairi hauled on the mooring line, turning to the captain as she did so. "We're ready to cast off, Captain," she said matter-of-factly.

"Excellent, Miss Sinclair," Davy Jones responded in his usual, thick Scottish accent, his aqua eyes looking at the ocean behind her rather than at the woman herself. "We'll be heading to open water for a while… I trust you'll be able to keep this crew in line?"

"Of course," Mairi reassured, pushing her inky black hair from her face. "When have I failed you?"

"Not yet, but there's a first time for everything," Jones joked, and moved to the helm, while Mairi tried to keep herself from staring.

"All hands on deck," she bellowed instead, watching the rest of the crew spill onto the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_ as she knotted a red scarf around her head to keep her hair back.

"Any luck with the captain yet," Maccus asked while he stood next to her, his blue eyes regarding her in a rather guarded fashion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mairi said stiffly, and Maccus rolled his eyes.

"Do you think I was born yesterday, Mairi," he chided lightly. "I'm your half-brother… I've known you your whole life, and most of my own. You fell for the captain a long time ago."

Mairi shrugged. "He wouldn't have me, I'm sure of it," she said introspectively. "If I keep quiet, at least I can still be on the same ship as him."

Maccus rolled his eyes. "I still think you should try," he encouraged. "New ship, new crew… You and the captain could do some wonderful things together."

The _Flying Dutchman_'s quartermaster simply shook her head, moving to the helm of the ship to take the wheel. "Give me that horizon," she muttered distractedly to herself as she looked over to Jones. "Our heading, Captain?"

"South-southwest. I'll let you know when it changes."

Mairi frowned, but nodded. It wasn't like him to be so vague, especially where a destination was concerned, but she supposed he must have a perfectly good reason…

"I see those gears turning, Mairi," Jones teased. "You're wondering what I'm thinking, aren't you?"

"As always," Mairi teased back, easing the wheel to the left. "Full canvas," she shouted to the crew, and glanced back at Jones. "So… What _are_ you thinking?"

Jones chuckled. "We're headed to the Caribbean," Jones explained. "I'm going to see _her_."

"Her?" Mairi frowned. "Who?"

"Calypso," Davy Jones explained, something akin to reverence in his voice. "She's incredible."

"That she is, Captain," Mairi said a bit distractedly, and Jones walked over to her.

"You're a real gem, Mairi," he said warmly. "You and your brother both. You never give me any trouble, you would follow me to the ends of the Earth, if I were to ask it of you…"

Mairi smiled. "You'll find that our loyalty is not easily bought and sold, Captain," she said simply. And that was true enough—just last week, she and Maccus had both been offered positions as boatswains on another pirate's ship; Mairi first, and Maccus after she had turned it down. The offer the captain had made had been a difficult one to refuse, but refuse it they had, Mairi stating simply that she "liked what she was doing now plenty well enough."

She felt something settle in on the top of her head, and a glance upward told her it was a hat. "You really ought to keep better track of this," he teased once again. "I've taken the liberty of putting a new feather in it for you—the old one was getting rather beat up."

"Well thank you, Captain," Mairi said warmly, and slid her long-lost chapeau off her head to look at it. The familiar black material had a black silk band around it, and tucked beneath the band was a large red feather—an obvious replacement, as the previous feather had been a much less expensive white one.

Mairi rolled her grey eyes and stripped off her long, black coat. "It's rather warm today," she said offhandedly, tossing the offending garment onto the deck. "Mr. Turpin! Kindly stow my coat in my cabin for me."

The deckhand in question did as he had been commanded, and Mairi swung the wheel a bit further to the left, spotting a ship in the distance. "Orders, Captain?"

A brief consult with his telescope left Davy Jones frowning. "Do nothing," he instructed. "The ship flies Henry Morgan's colors."

"A bit far from England, isn't he," Mairi responded, and bellowed, "Hoist the colors, and didn't I ask for full canvas?"

"The sails are torn," one of the men responded, and Mairi rolled her eyes.

"Then _mend them,_" she snapped, "you blubbering idiot!" She sighed. "Sometimes, they really do astound me, Captain… How hard is it to intuitively grasp the fact that a torn sail is going to need to be repaired?"

Jones chuckled. "I must admit, Mairi, that your patience is a constant marvel." He placed a hand on her shoulder and bellowed, "You heard the woman, you sorry lot! Mend the sails and hoist the colors!" He shook his head, giving her a pleading look. "You see? Nothing ever gets done when you're, ah… Incapacitated. They leave the mess to be dealt with when you're feeling up to it."

"The curse of my gender," Mairi grumbled, watching as a crewman scrambled up the mast to retrieve the sails. "Put the spare set up," she ordered her half-brother, who was standing nearby. "They're a bit dingy, but they'll keep us moving, at least."

"Aye," Maccus responded, and went to retrieve the spare set of sails, collecting a few more crewmen to help him in the process. The _Flying Dutchman_ was a big ship, to say the least, and even some of the simplest chores on board required multiple crewmen to complete.

"There's something about a powerful woman," Jones muttered, leaning in close to her, "that's incredibly attractive. Do you realize that, Miss Sinclair?"

Mairi very nearly started in spite of herself, but managed to keep her cool, shooting Jones a very level glance. "I don't suppose I've ever given it any thought," she said simply, and Jones leaned in even closer.

"_Very_ attractive, Miss Sinclair." He kissed her fiercely on the mouth, a hint of possessiveness glinting in his blue eyes.

"Captain," she responded sharply, "I do realize that all this time at sea can make a man rather desperate for the companionship of a woman, at times, but you must contain yourself… You're causing a scene."

Jones drew back as if he had been stung, carefully regarding the girl. "Apologies, Miss Sinclair… I had no intention of disrespecting you." He nodded curtly, and walked away.

A moment later, Maccus sprang up onto the deck, standing by her. "What was that all about, Mairi? You're very nearly ruining your chances with stunts like that, you know."

She glared at him. "You didn't see the look he gave me," she said levelly. "There was no passion in his eyes… Only a need for possession."

"And you need to be free," Maccus finished for her, nodding understandingly. "I'm sorry, Mairi… Do you think there's any chance that some other time, things would be different?"

Mairi shrugged. "I don't know," she said softly. "But I'll certainly be around, so we may just have to see."


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2… Sort of. I'll be the first to admit, I don't really like this chapter. It's mostly filler, but I feel like it needed to be in here… Regardless, the next chapter should (hopefully) be better, and we'll get into some snippets of stuff that actually sounds like plot, I promise. Also, thanks to all the reviewers and people that have added this story to their alert list… I'll try and have a new chapter up every week or two from here on out. **

The journey to the Caribbean proved largely uneventful—Mairi wasn't used to things going so smoothly, so she was on edge the entire way, a fact which Jones and Maccus seemed to rather enjoy teasing her for at the beginning of their steady southward voyage.

Now, however, as everyone suffered in the cruel heat of the Caribbean sun, Mairi seemed to be the only one largely unaffected. She wore a pair of tan pants with her black, cuffed boots, a linen shirt that fit her so loosely it might have been her brother's, and a tightly-laced, black corset that seemed to show off all the right curves on her strong frame. Her hair was tucked up underneath her large hat, which she kept pulled low to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Step to, gentlemen," she shouted as she appeared on deck one morning. "Wyvern, you layabout, get out of the crow's nest and swab this deck!"

"Your good mood concerns me a bit, Miss Sinclair," Jones said tiredly as he walked over to her. He was already sweating, Mairi noted—bits of blonde hair were plastered to his damp face, and his shirt (he had disposed of his coat as well) was covered in dark spots of moisture. "Dare I ask what may have prompted such an… Upbeat display?"

Mairi shrugged, giving her captain an easygoing smile. "The heat really isn't that bad, Captain, if you don't think about it," she said evasively.

"You haven't answered my question," was Jones's only response, his already thick Scottish accent edged with suspicion.

"Oh, you needn't worry, Captain, I assure you… I was simply looking at the charts again last night… We're nearly there, you know."

Jones cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm glad you find that so encouraging… I assume, then, that you have some plea you would like to make to Calypso yourself?"

"I've given it thought," Mairi said calmly. "But if you really must know, I suppose part of the reason I'm so excited is because once we've reached our destination and done what we came here to do, all that's really left for us is to turn around and sail out of this towering inferno."

Almost before he realized what was happening, Jones found himself chuckling. "You always have had an odd way of showing your distaste for things, Mairi…" He paused. "We'll head first to Tortuga… I don't suspect it would be proper to make an appeal to a goddess without some sort of offering."

"Aye… That it wouldn't."

Jones chuckled. "And now you're silently cursing me for wrecking the perfect heading you had plotted out, aren't you?"

"Perhaps a bit. If you'll excuse me, I must go consult my charts again." She turned and disappeared back to her cabin, hoping to figure out the quickest, easiest way to alter their heading to get to Tortuga… She really wished Jones wouldn't put her on the spot like this, but, on the other hand, since the ship didn't have a navigator at the moment, most of the responsibilities involved with that position seemed to fall to her…

She nearly had everything worked out when someone knocked on her cabin door. "Mairi? Can I come in?"

"If you must," she teased, having recognized the voice as her brother's, and heard the door creak open.

"You were on deck for all of five minutes, and you've been gone for at least half an hour… Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, not at all…" She gestured to the spread of maps on the table before her. "Captain just waited until today to inform me we would be stopping in Tortuga, is all… So, I've been reworking our heading." She took one last measurement and picked her compass up off the table. "And now I have the heading… Care to keep me company?"

"I doubt I can manage that without earning myself a whipping…"

Mairi shrugged. "I suppose you're right… Talking Jimmy out of a whipping is far beyond my power... But we should get back on deck regardless."

The two of them reappeared on deck a moment later, and Mairi headed straight back to the helm.

"We have a heading, Captain," she said lightly. "By which, of course, I mean we have a new heading." She checked her compass distractedly and took the wheel from Jones, making the necessary adjustment.

"How far is this going to set us back?"

She shrugged. "As far as travel time is concerned, not very far. It depends largely on how much time you had planned on spending in Tortuga."

Jones nodded, apparently satisfied with her response. "It's too bloody hot out here," he half-muttered. "I'll be in my cabin if you need me."

"Aye, sir," Mairi said a bit distractedly, then turned her attention back to the crew. Morale was a bit low at the moment—a fact she blamed primarily on the heat, but she was fairly certain that she could solve that problem in just a few words: "Full sail, gentlemen," she ordered. "We make for Tortuga!"


	3. Chapter 3

Mairi had never liked Tortuga all that well—she was usually driven there out of desperation, with a starving, dehydrated crew ready to jump at each others' throats. Naturally, it seemed odd to her now to have her crew in such high spirits as they docked the ship, and perhaps the oddest thing of all was the fact that Davy Jones had come up from his cabin and was standing directly behind Mairi, watching her bellow orders to his crew, after being shut up in his cabin almost constantly for the last three days.

Things had, admittedly, been a bit awkward of late between the captain and his quartermaster—ever since that day when he had kissed Mairi (He still wasn't certain what had driven him to do that…), the girl had been rather tense around him, and didn't seem too keen on talking more than was necessary. She tried her best to sound as though it hadn't affected her, but Jones knew her better than that… There was a faint edge of something to her voice that he wasn't sure he liked.

"Return to the ship tomorrow evening," Jones shouted, and when he saw Mairi jump, he realized that she hadn't even known he was there. "Any who fail to do so will be left behind and accused of desertion."

"Drop anchor," was Mairi's only response, and as the crew disembarked, Maccus stepped up to her.

"What'll it be first, Mairi? Drinks or cards?"

"Shopping," Mairi answered calmly, and her brother groaned.

"You mean to tell me you're actually going to drag me into stores full of frilly women's clothing with you? You would put your own flesh and blood through that torture?"

"Why yes, I would indeed. Come along." She took her brother's arm and led him off the ship, leaving Jones chuckling behind them for a moment before he followed, hoping to find a gift for Calypso.

Mairi's first stop was at a dress shop, where she insisted upon being fitted properly for a dress and having a deep crimson one altered to fit her. It wouldn't be ready until the next day, so her next stop was for a barrel of oranges—they were expensive (more than Mairi cared to spend, in fact), but it had been quite some time since she had had one, as they were even rarer up north, and she was rather fond of the sweet, acidic taste.

"I suppose we should haul these back to the ship," Mairi suggested to her brother, rather distractedly. She was staring into a shop window, Maccus noted, where Jones was looking at a parasol.

"Mairi?" He saw her jump and sighed, turning the barrel of oranges on its side to roll it back to the docks. "Do you… Want to go talk to the Captain?"

She shook her head. "No. Absolutely not… What interest would I possibly hold for him? He's completely enamored with her."

"She _is_ a goddess, Mairi…" Whatever else Maccus may have had to say was interrupted by the arrival of an old man, reeking of drink.

"You," he slurred, pointing at Mairi. "I know you… Sailed with your father, I did… Just a little scrap last time I saw you, you wouldn't remember… Left you a ship, didn't he?"

"What happened to the _Saorsainn_ is none of your concern, if you don't already know the tale," Mairi snapped—she wasn't particularly fond of the direction this conversation was headed.

The man laughed. "Oh, I know the tale alright," he leered, although most of the effect was lost, thanks to his intoxication. "Mairi Sinclair, dressing as a man to serve in the Royal Navy as a mop boy… Lost everything she had and was reduced to piracy!"

"It doesn't seem to me that you're much better off," Maccus quipped, one arm wrapped protectively around his sister's shoulders. "Leave us be, before I _make_ you."

"Oh, what's this now? Miss Sinclair has someone to fight her battles for her now, does she? Can't she do it herself? Your father would be _ashamed_ of you, girl… This isn't Douglas Sinclair's daughter. You're naught but a common whore."

"Be gone," Mairi snarled, "before I deem it fitting to introduce you to my knife."

Before Mairi or Maccus could act however, the man collapsed to the ground, evidently feeling the effects of his overindulgences. Mairi jabbed at him with the toe of her boot, then turned to Maccus. "To the ship, then… And drinks afterwards, I think. This bloke's put a bit of a damper on my good mood."

After their brief excursion back to the ship, the duo hid themselves away in a dimly-lit corner of one of Tortuga's many taverns, where Maccus threw mug after mug of whatever drink he could get his hands on down his throat, while Mairi sipped demurely at a glass of red wine.

"I tell you, Mairi," Maccus slurred to her after about an hour, but when Mairi looked up to acknowledge him, he simply looked confused. "Never mind… I forgot. Are you going to finish that wine?"

"Eventually, yes," Mairi told him calmly. "And I think you've had a little too much to drink, wouldn't you agree?"

"No I haven't… You just haven't had enough."

She rolled her eyes and failed to hold in a chuckle. "I'm not looking forward to sobering you up."

"Bah! I don't need to sober up… You need to drink _more_, remember?"

"No, Maccus. Not tonight."

"Well you're not any fun at all… I bet you would drink if Captain told you to…"

Under normal circumstances, Mairi's glare would have been enough to tell Maccus that he had crossed a line, but alcohol had dulled his wits enough that he seemed to completely miss his sister's expression. Rather than attempt to argue with him, however, Mairi simply downed the rest of her wine in one gulp, stood up, and stalked from the establishment.

She walked for nearly half an hour, unsure of why she was so upset and yet unable to calm herself down, before she finally sighed heavily, seated herself on the edge of the docks (her wandering had somehow led her back to the ship) and removed her boots, letting her bare feet soak in the water beneath her.

When she had been younger, still in the care of her father, they had spent countless hours sitting on the docks, Mairi always barefoot, feet dangling in the water much as they were now, while her father told stories of the time he had spent at sea and she listened, completely enraptured. There had never been any doubt in her mind that she would sail one day, whether women were allowed on ships or not. Her father had been wildly against it, of course, but she had run off one day, bartered passage to London on a merchant ship, and used her father's name to enlist herself in the navy.

Her plan had worked well, for the first nine months or so—she had worked as a mop boy, cleaning the decks and guns, staying out of everyone else's way as much as she could without it seeming suspicious—until the first battle. She had been ordered to take up arms and fight, unsurprisingly, but took a bullet in the shoulder, and the ship's surgeon refused to keep her secret. Once her wound had been cleaned and bandaged, she had been discharged and dropped off on the first populated scrap of land they found—Tortuga, ironically enough.

Infuriated with both herself and the navy, Mairi hadn't wasted any time in bartering passage back to her native Scotland, where, upon showing up at her father's house in a ragged navy uniform with her hair cut short, Douglas Sinclair took one look at her, shook his head, and said simply, "Take the _Saorsainn_, if you're so determined to live at sea. I can see now there's no stopping you."

"You look a bit distracted." An all-too-familiar, thick Scottish accent pulled Mairi back into present day. "I'm surprised you're not out drinking with your brother."

"I'm not much in the mood," she responded, a bit more coldly than she had intended. She didn't even look at Jones; her gaze was fixed on the dark water ahead of her.

"Why don't you at least come onto the ship? You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

"Because I'm a woman," she half-asked, half-threatened.

"Yes, because you're a woman, no matter how much you may try to deny it. There are men all over here that don't know you as well as this crew does. What's to say one of them won't manage to overpower you? You're not invincible, Mairi."

"Don't remind me," she spat, and began working at the laces of her corset. "I'm going for a swim," she said, a bit hollowly. "I'll likely sleep on the ship tonight, and won't want to be bothered."

"And you'll likely be whipped in the morning for disrespect," Jones snapped.

"And I _likely_ deserve it," was Mairi's only response before she slid off the dock and into the water. From a vantage point in the shadow of the docks, she watched Jones stomp off onto the ship before slipping away into the water. She was in an awful mood, admittedly, but that was no excuse for behaving like that in front of Captain Jones, she knew—she would likely catch hell from Maccus, if he ever found out what had happened…

She dove and got herself a little away from the ship before resurfacing, gasping for breath and shaking her wet hair from her face. The cool, salty water was an oddly reassuring force for her—she had a habit of just jumping into the ocean whenever she needed to calm herself down. Maccus and the rest of the crew thought it was a bit odd, of course, but she scarcely cared what they thought.

There was a splash nearby, and Mairi turned to locate the source of the sound… She blinked once, then again, shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and frowned. There was a tentacle just a few feet from her, holding what was unmistakably her corset, which she had definitely left on the dock.

"Give that back," she muttered, unsure why she was even talking to the thing—surely it couldn't understand her… Or could it? The tentacle edged closer and held out the garment in question, but jerked back when she tried to take the corset from its grasp.

"You're not funny, you know… That's mine, and you've stolen it." She attempted to reclaim her clothing again and again, only to meet with the same result. She was heading further and further away from the ship, she realized—this wasn't good.

"Look, I'm going to have to get back to that ship eventually, and I'm not leaving without my corset." She felt a tentacle close around her ankle and panicked, letting a scream escape her lips and thrashing around to try to get free of it… But a moment later, she heard a voice.

"_Please stop moving around so much… I'm not going to hurt you."_

Mairi fell still again, too stunned to do much else. "W-what…?"

"_I am called the Kraken, and am a denizen of the goddess Calypso. She sent me to tell you that she wishes to speak with you separately from your captain. She will be waiting for you._

The tentacle released her, her corset was dropped into her hands, and the Kraken disappeared into the water, leaving Mairi alone once again. With one final shake of her head, she turned to swim back to the ship, still trying to decide if what she had just experienced was real or not.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys, it's been forever since I updated this, and I apologize. I've been busy with school, family, friends, and working on various other writing projects, and fanfiction kind of fell to the wayside for a little while. But I'm back, and hopefully I'll be able to get this story going again.**

The next morning found Mairi curled up in one of the holds, nestled between a barrel of what she assumed was gunpowder and a crate of Lord knows what… These sleeping arrangements were strange, by any means—especially considering the fact that she had her own cabin. She had wandered down to the hold last night after her strange encounter with that Kraken thing, hoping to sort through not only what had just happened, but also the whirlpool of emotions threatening to consume her, and somewhere down the line, she had simply fallen asleep.

She stood up and tried to stretch, nearly falling over as she attempted it—her limbs were stiff, her back and neck ached… She was certain she probably looked like a mess as well, but that fact scarcely bothered her. She stumbled back towards the stairs that led to the main deck and stubbed her toe on a crate. As she cursed under her breath, she realized her boots were still sitting on the dock and sighed—she would have to go get them, she supposed, and that meant crossing the entire ship, and probably running into Jones, and she just didn't want to deal with that.

She had been out of line the previous evening, she knew, getting smart with him like that, but her pride wouldn't let her apologize, and he wasn't exactly the type to just let things like that go… _So here I sit, hiding belowdecks like a child, frightened of a lashing?_ _Get a grip, Mairi. This isn't you at all. _ She sighed, gave stretching out her sore limbs one more shot, and climbed up the stairs, blinking against the harsh Caribbean sunlight as she stepped on deck.

"Miss Sinclair," came a call from across the deck, and Mairi groaned inwardly—the Scottish accent was unmistakable.

"Aye, Captain?"

"I do believe you were promised a whipping last night, were you not?"

"I was, sir." She walked over to Jones as she spoke, already bracing herself for the bite of the cat o' nines.

"To the mast, then." He gestured to the main mast, and Mairi nodded.

"Aye, sir," she said, and walked over without any further comment, bracing herself against the mast and closing her eyes.

"You're lucky I've decided to take pity on you, Miss Sinclair," Jones said, and she heard a whip crack against the deck. "Five lashes, with no one around to witness it… We will not speak of your offense last night after this, but if you disrespect me again, I will _personally_ deliver twenty lashes in full view of the entire crew. I hope I've made myself clear." With that, he drew the whip back and struck, whipping the girl through her shirt primarily to let her maintain at least _some_ of her dignity—the whipping itself would be enough of an injury to her pride; she didn't need to be half-naked on deck to top it off, crew or no crew.

When the five lashes were delivered, Mairi didn't move right away, taking a moment instead to draw in a deep, steadying breath, gauging the amount of pain that breathing deeply caused her. Discovering that it wasn't completely unbearable, she straightened up and turned to head to her cabin, not even looking at Jones as she passed him. Once she was safely shut inside, she stripped off her shirt, using it to mop up the blood as best she could, then put on a fresh one. With that, she stepped out on deck once more and got off the ship, sitting down to put on her boots. Her back hurt like the devil, but she wasn't about to let Jones see that… He was being an ass, and she had things she needed to do—like finding out what in the hell had happened to her brother, to start with.

Thankfully, it didn't take her long to track Maccus down—he had passed out in the street, right in front of the bar where she had left him the night before. With a roll of her eyes, she left to get a bucket of water, and when she returned with one, dumped it on his head.

"Wake up," she chimed, trying to cram as much false cheer into her voice as she possibly could.

Maccus groaned, squinting against the sunlight. "Where the devil did you go last night," he mumbled, and Mairi frowned.

"I went back to the ship… I wasn't in a very good mood. I'm sorry; I really should have stayed with you."

"Bah… I'm sure I wasn't doing much to help you feel better." He stumbled clumsily to his feet. "My head's pounding… Can I borrow your hat for a bit? This damned sun's not helping."

She nodded, passing her hat over to her brother and running a hand through her hair distractedly. "Come on," she instructed, "let's go pick up the dress I ordered yesterday… Surely it's done by now."

"I meant to ask you what you wanted a dress for anyway," Maccus said as he stumbled along next to her. "I mean, it's not like it's exactly _practical_, if you take my meaning…"

"Calypso," Mairi said offhandedly. "I plan on trying to meet with her separately from Captain… And if I'm going to be meeting the goddess and making any sort of request from her, I want to look my best."

"You're lying," Maccus said with a grin. He was the only one who could ever read Mairi like that—mostly because he was related to her, he supposed. "I gather that you wanted to get it to look nice for Captain… But now you're upset with him, so you're making up a reason."

Mairi frowned. "I really do hate that you know me so well, you know," she said, a bit more bitterly than she intended. "Am I really so open that you can just read me like a book?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mairi… You know I can't read."

She couldn't help but smile at that—Maccus always knew just when to make stupid little comments like that. "Perhaps after we pick up my dress, we should just head back to the ship," she suggested lightly. "If you're still feeling the aftereffects of the drink, and I'm just not feeling up to wandering about by myself… You know I'm not particularly fond of Tortuga."

"Aye… But there's something else on your mind, isn't there? I suppose you'll tell me all about it, once we get on the ship, won't you?"

She nodded, but before she could say anything, Maccus was talking again.

"Hold on, Mairi… Is that _blood_ on your shirt?"

She shrugged, thankful that he couldn't see her face—the effort involved in moving her shoulders made her wince. "It might be."

"You were flogged? For what?"

She started to shrug again, and stopped herself, deciding it wasn't worth the pain. "Disrespect. It's not worth making a fuss over… I certainly deserved it. I might explain later. For now, let's just get my dress and get back to the ship."

When the duo of half-siblings returned to the _Flying Dutchman_, Jones was still standing on deck, looking rather lost in thought. Mairi and Maccus exchanged a glance, then proceeded across the deck in an uneasy silence, not wanting to disturb the Captain's thoughts, whatever they may be…

"Mairi."

At the sound of her name, the quartermaster stiffened and froze, almost in mid-stride. "Aye, Captain?"

"We leave at dusk. Whoever among the crew has not returned by then will be left behind." He paused slightly. "I expect you to be at the helm tonight."

She nodded. "Aye, Captain," she said, a bit quieter than usual, and nodded to Maccus, leading him to her cabin, where she laid the dress over a chair and gestured to her bed.

"You can lie down in here, for a bit… I expect it's more comfortable than a hammock in the hold." She frowned. "Captain's bloody _pissed_ at me, isn't he?"

"Aye," Maccus said, more or less throwing himself across Mairi's bed. "I don't know what you did to him, but he seems to have taken it personally… Maybe you should apologize to him."

"Maybe," Mairi said distractedly, and stared at the seawater through the single, tiny window in her cabin. She thought she saw a flash of something dark, just beneath the surface of the water, but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and she frowned to herself. "Get some rest, Maccus… I think I'm going to go for another swim."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N—Yes, I know this chapter's been a long time coming… But I'm a full-time college student who's been taking summer classes, so that's my excuse. :P Anyway, I feel like this chapter should really take place a bit later in the story, but it's been begging to be written for a couple weeks now, so here it is anyway. It also lays the foundation for what's going to become a very major plot change from what I originally had planned. Anyway, hope you like it, and as always, I love any feedback at all. *hint hint***

Mairi's swim, as things turned out, never happened—she had barely made it on deck before Jones was lumbering over to her.

"How is your back feeling," he asked, seeming to fix his gaze on something just past her, and Mairi shrugged.

"Stings a bit… I've had worse."

"Have you now," he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her, and Mairi nodded, sliding her shirt far enough off her shoulder to reveal the bullet scar that was still visible there.

"I snuck onto a British Navy ship and worked as a mop boy… Until I got shot, of course, and received my discharge orders."

He chuckled. "Why does that not surprise me," he muttered, and Mairi laid a hand on his arm impulsively.

"I'm sorry… About last night. I know you were just trying to make sure I would be safe, but I wasn't in a very good mood, and mistook your kindness for…"

"I'm aware." He paused awkwardly for a moment. "How's your brother feeling?"

Mairi laughed. "As bad as he looks, I would assume… I put him in my quarters to sleep it off in a real bed."

"That's likely for the best." Another awkward pause followed, which left Mairi wondering what exactly had happened between them in recent months—conversation had once been so much easier than this… "Will you go for a walk with me, Mairi?"

She smiled at him. "As my Captain commands," she said cheerily, and followed him off the ship.

They walked for several minutes before Jones spoke again. "I saw the dress you brought on board… It's very pretty. Dare I inquire as to the occasion?"

Mairi shrugged. "I thought perhaps I should dress up a bit when we meet with Calypso… I had rather hoped to speak with her myself," she rationalized, hoping Jones wouldn't see through her lie. He simply gave her a hard look for a moment, then nodded and continued the conversation.

"I understand you had a visitor last night, while you were out on your swim."

Mairi stiffened, her eyes widening briefly. "How did you know about…?"

"The Kraken? It came to speak with me as well."

"Did it now? And what, precisely, did it have to say?"

Jones shook his head. "I'd rather not talk about it," he said sheepishly, and Mairi nodded sympathetically.

Another minute of awkward silence followed before Jones gave an exasperated sigh. "Confound it Mairi, you've been like this for well over a month now!"

She frowned. "Like what, Captain?"

"I don't know, exactly… Quiet. Moping around the ship while you don't think I'm paying you any attention, but pretending everything's fine as soon as you see me. Spending more time looking away from me than actually talking when we have conversations. This isn't the Mairi Sinclair I brought aboard this ship." He paused. "She never would have talked back to me like that last night, either."

Mairi just shook her head and gave him a sad smile. "You honestly haven't figured it out," she asked him softly, and the pain in her voice was almost palpable. She started to turn away, but Jones grabbed her arm to stop her and was more than a little surprised to find tears in her eyes.

"Mairi," he said gently. "I'm sorry, but you cannot expect me to understand anything if you don't talk to me."

She just shook her head again. "I'm sorry Captain… But I can't do that right now."

Part of Jones wanted nothing more than to just reach out and smack her, but that part of him was beaten out by something else—something that made him simply let go of her arm and let her walk away from him. As she disappeared back towards the ship once more, he couldn't help but worry that something was desperately wrong with his quartermaster.


	6. Chapter 6

The remainder of the voyage was largely uneventful, although the crew didn't miss out on the fact that Mairi was in a terrible mood. She was unusually quiet, especially around Jones, and the only times she really seemed to speak at all were when she needed to issue an order, but even that was done without her usual air of confidence. On several occasions, when she appeared on deck in the morning, it was obvious she had been crying, but despite Maccus's many attempts to pressure her into telling him what was wrong, she insisted that everything was fine.

Their arrival at the site where they would meet Calypso found Mairi wearing the crimson gown she had purchased in Tortuga, her hair loose around her shoulders, and her facial expression positively despondent. She stood at the prow of the ship, her hands neatly folded and resting on the rail before her, looking out at the surrounding land- and seascapes in a manner that suggested that she didn't actually see it.

"Mairi?"

She jumped slightly, then turned to face her brother, who took her silence as permission to speak further.

"We're here… Do you want me to walk you off the ship?"

She nodded, closing the distance between the two of them and taking the arm he offered her.

"Captain said you could go first," her brother informed her conversationally. "He seemed to think it might improve your mood."

She snorted derisively, but offered no verbal response—then caught sight of Jones eyeing her curiously from across the deck. She looked away before he had a chance to even think about saying anything, however, and stepped off the ship with her brother.

Maccus lifted Mairi onto the most solid-looking piece of soggy, swamp-like ground he could find, giving her an apologetic look.

"Bit mucky out here," he muttered, and Mairi gave him a look that seemed to settle somewhere in between a smile and a grimace, picking up her skirts and following behind him as he began walking, trying to pick out the driest pieces of land for her sake.

The walk didn't take too long, thankfully—the muggy air and muddy ground made it seem absolutely miserable, especially for Mairi as she trudged along in layer upon layer of heavy fabric and full skirts. By the time they found the sea goddess, Mairi couldn't help but think that she likely resembled a drowned rat more than she did a pirate at this point—her hair was plastered to her face from both sweat and the humidity, she was drenched in sweat, and despite her most valiant efforts, the hem of her gown was still muddy, and had snagged on something or other and torn a little during the trip.

"Do you want me to wait here for you, Mairi?"

She paused uncertainly for a moment before nodding to her brother. "Please," she said softly. "But be forewarned… As soon as I'm finished, I'm taking this bloody dress off."

Maccus chuckled. "I don't blame you," he told her appreciatively. "Go on, then."

Mairi made her way into the tide pool where she would meet Calypso, trying her best not to slip on any of the mossy stones or trip over her dress—a tumble into the water wouldn't help her, after all. Once she had managed to secure a spot for herself, she took a moment to look at the pool itself. A starfish clung to a rock, a couple tiny fish swam around… But what really struck Mairi was the crabs.

The sheer number of them was ridiculous, really, for so small a space—she counted at least thirty of them scuttling around, although it was hard to keep track with all of them moving. They were also unlike any crab she had ever seen before; they had rounded, relatively flat bodies, and were a sandy white in color. She picked one of the creatures up to take a closer look, not even really thinking about the possibility of it pinching her, and was surprised to find that it didn't seem threatened by her at all. As she sat and stared at it, it simply stared back, as though waiting for her to do something.

She stroked the creature's shelled back absently for a moment, then sat it down once more. "Calypso," she began, a bit uncertainly. "I stand before you as but a servant, seeking your aid. Will you hear me?"

For a moment, nothing happened… And then all of the strange crabs seemed to converge on a single spot, climbing all over each other and morphing suddenly into a woman, her dark eyes regarding Mairi with some emotion that Mairi couldn't quite identify.

"Mairi Sinclair," the goddess greeted, her voice thick with the same accent Mairi heard from some of the natives around the area. "You come before me seeking counsel in matters of the heart."

Mairi nodded. "I only wish to know if there is any chance… Any hope at all…"

Calypso regarded her with what might have been pity. "You do not wish to make him love you… Only to let him be with who he loves. Unfortunately, the one he loves is not you."

Mairi nodded solemnly biting back the pain, anger, and disappointment. "I suspected as much… Thank you."

The goddess stepped forward, reaching out to gently touch Mairi right between the collarbones. The goddess's touch was surprisingly wet, as her hands appeared to be quite dry, and Mairi felt the moisture creep up from Calypso's fingertips to circle loosely around her neck.

"When all else seems to fail you, I will be there," Calypso promised. "But for now, your place is aboard the ship with him. You will know when it is time for you to leave."

The moisture, Mairi realized, had become a necklace—pale blue sea-glass suspended from a silver chain—and she reached up to feel it curiously.

"A reminder," Calypso explained. "That I will come for you… But you must wait."

The girl nodded. "I will… Thank you."

The goddess smiled kindly. "Return to your brother and your ship now… You will be needed there." With that, Calypso simply disappeared, and Mairi turned and left the tide pool .

"How did it go," Maccus asked conversationally when his sister reappeared, but Mairi just shook her head.

"Like I was afraid it would," she said softly. "Will you unlace the back of this blasted dress?"

Biting back a grin, he did as he was instructed, helping his sister strip off the heavy garment and most of its under-trimmings, leaving Mairi in her petticoat and boots. The two of them returned to the _Flying Dutchman _mostly in a surprisingly comfortable silence—despite the fact that Maccus could still tell that Mairi was upset, she seemed… Different. Calmer, somehow, as though she had come to terms with the situation. At one point, he lost his footing and tripped, stumbling into the marshy water, and she even made a joke as she pulled him back onto solid ground.

Their return to the ship found them set upon by most of the crew:

"Did you see her?"

"What's she like?"

"Was she pretty?"

"What did you ask her for?"

"Did she make you take your dress off?"

Mairi rolled her eyes at the last question and shook her head. "I took the dress off because it's bloody uncomfortable, and only served to get in my way. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I'm going to go put on something a bit more decent." With that, she nudged her way through the crowd of crewmen and disappeared into her cabin before anyone could say anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey everybody… I'm SO SORRY it's taken this long to get a new chapter… I started this chapter right after I finished the last one… But life got in the way, and then I decided trying NaNoWriMo sounded like a good idea… But, here it is, finally, with my sincerest apologies and all the imaginary cookies you can eat.**

**I haven't quite decided whether the boatswain I'm referring to in this chapter is Jimmylegs or not… In the original version of this story that I had planned, it was, but now I'm not sure, especially since if this is supposed to be Jimmylegs, he's acting really OOC. So, feel free to imagine the boatswain as whoever you would like for now, if I decide later that it should be Jimmylegs, I'll go back and edit it.**

Mairi didn't bother to ask how Jones's visit with Calypso went—as a matter of fact, she barely even bothered to leave her cabin. Having used changing her clothes as an excuse to get away from the curious crewmen, upon disappearing into her room, she had locked her door, fallen onto her bed, and simply laid there and cried. She had been holding the tears back since she had met with the sea goddess, too proud to let her disappointment show, but now that she was alone, the floodgates opened.

She eventually got off the bed and changed back into her shirt, pants, and boots, forgoing the corset today because she couldn't be bothered with lacing herself into it. She was unsure how much time had passed since she had walked into her room, and upon further thought, realized that she didn't particularly care. Apparently, however, someone did—she had barely even dismissed the thought when a sharp rap on her door caught her attention.

"Mairi?" She recognized the voice right away—but why was the boatswain knocking on her bedroom door? "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Mairi said, trying her best to keep her voice as calm as she could. "Thank you."

There was a moment's pause before he responded with, "Will you at least unlock the door and let me in? Your brother sent me to check on you… Wanted me to be certain that I actually _saw_ you, if you take my meaning."

Mairi hesitated for a moment, letting a series of accusatory thoughts run through her mind, then reached out and unlocked the door impulsively, all but throwing it open.

"There," she said matter-of-factly. "You've seen me. I'm fine."

"You've been crying," he responded bluntly. "And you've been in here for almost three hours… Mairi, you're obviously not alright. Just please, talk to Maccus. Tell him what's wrong. Or if you can't talk to him, talk to me, or to the Captain, or…" He trailed off, having noted a sudden change in Mairi's expression. "It's Captain, isn't it? Did he… Hurt you?"

Mairi shook her head insistently. "No, no… He didn't do anything." She looked away, drifting into silence for a few moments before she added softly, "That's the problem."

He frowned, clearly confused, and Mairi stepped aside to let him through the door, closing it behind him.

"You really couldn't tell," she asked him softly, and he shook his head. "Perhaps that's for the best," she continued solemnly, her eyes glued to the floor. "I wouldn't expect any of you to understand anyway." She shifted her weight awkwardly. "Has Captain returned yet?"

He nodded. "A few minutes ago… Didn't have much to say about Calypso, other than the fact that she gave us a job to do… We're supposed to be discussing it in a meeting later tonight." He paused. "He seemed a smidge bothered when he found out that you hadn't left your room since he'd left the ship, you know… Wandered off muttering something about how he wished you would admit that something's bothering you."

He paused again, looking around the room awkwardly. "We all know something's wrong, Mairi. You've been acting different since Tortuga… And we care about you, Mairi. Really, we do. You keep this ship running real nice, and take real good care of all of us…" He trailed off, dragging his eyes back to her face. "Just, if you ever need to talk, promise you'll remember that I'm willing to lend an ear."

Mairi was silent for a moment before she nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, and reached out to hug him. She couldn't deny that she was more than a little surprised by the boatswain's admissions to her—regardless of whether they were the truth or not, he wasn't exactly famous for being a sensitive, thoughtful character. In some respects, though, that made her more inclined to believe that he spoke the truth now, no matter how strange the truth may have seemed at the moment.

She released her grip and stepped away from him to slip on her coat. "Why don't you go on up… I'll be along in a minute," she promised, reaching behind her head to begin braiding her hair, and watched her companion nod and start heading for the door.

He paused just before he reached it. "I meant what I said, Mairi," he assured her, and she nodded solemnly.

"I know… I'll see you on deck." He departed, and she finished her braid and tied it up with a length of ribbon before throwing her hat on and leading up after him.

"There you are," Maccus said when she arrived on deck. "I was starting to worry… You were down there for so long…"

Mairi shook her head. "I'm fine," she said dismissively. "I just… Needed some time to myself."

"Is that so, Miss Sinclair," a voice interrupted from behind her, and Mairi whirled around to face Jones. "Might I speak with you a moment, if you're feeling up to it?"

"Of course," she responded, doing her best to sound calm despite the fact that her mind was racing, and Jones beckoned for her to follow him.

He led her to his quarters and shut the door behind her. "Calypso has given us an assignment," he began solemnly. "My purpose is now to ferry the souls of those who have died at sea into the afterlife… I'm to be permitted one day ashore every ten years." He paused, allowing her a moment to take the information in. "I haven't told the crew about it yet, I'll be addressing them tonight, so you'll likely be at the helm… But I need your support in this, Mairi." He gave her a pleading look that very nearly broke her heart. "I can still count on you, can I not?"

Mairi was silent for a moment before she answered. "Three years ago, I made you a promise… Do you remember that?"

He nodded. "As long as I needed you and as long as the ship needed you, you would be there," he responded. "But we've changed since then, Mairi—you and I both have. And sometimes, when people change, it becomes harder for them to keep their promises."

Mairi shook her head. "I gave my word, and I'll stand by it," she said solemnly. "I would swear it on my own grave."

"It's bad luck to swear," Jones mused thoughtfully, and Mairi shrugged, giving him a cocksure smile that he hadn't seen from her in months.

"I'll make my own luck," she responded confidently, and turned for the door. "Until the sea herself claims me, I'll not be bothered by such silly superstitions… Especially since you and I both know that I'm living proof that there's no point in putting any sort of stock into that nonsense."

Jones chuckled appreciatively. "Aye, that you are, Mairi," he affirmed as she left the room. "That you are." And he found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, she was alright after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Things rarely work out perfectly—that was a lesson Mairi had learned early on—and now, as she struggled to keep the _Flying Dutchman_ afloat with what barely constituted a skeleton crew to run it as they sailed through a hurricane, she couldn't help but think that it couldn't be more true.

"Steady as she goes, men," she shouted, wrenching the wheel hard to the left in an effort to avoid a piece of debris. She braced herself as another wave pummeled the ship, washing the whole deck in seawater—this was going absolutely abysmally, and she was fairly certain the crew knew it, but they had been far too far out at sea to have any hope of making it to land before the storm hit, and even if they had, Jones would have been stuck on the ship…

The _Dutchman_ bucked hard to the right, and she stumbled and hit the deck, sliding across the slick surface until she crashed into the aft castle railing and pain ricocheted through her. Swearing and gritting her teeth, she struggled back to her feet and managed to stagger back to the wheel, fighting through the pain to try and get the ship back under control.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Jones yell through the winds, "Get below, Mairi. I'll take her from here."

She surrendered her post, listening as Jones roared out another series of orders to the crew, and made her way down from the aft castle into the hold.

When Jones had announced to his crew that they would be ferrying the souls of the dead, he had given them the option of leaving the next time they made port. That had been a mistake—when they stopped off at Tortuga, the only crewmen who chose to remain behind were Mairi, Maccus, the boatswain, and three others. The _Dutchman_ could be crewed easily enough by six men in fair weather and familiar waters, but put those six men in charge of the same ship in a hurricane, and the odds were undoubtedly stacked against them.

A sudden stab of pain reminded Mairi that she had been thrown into the railing mere moments before, and she winced, finding that she pain wasn't so easy to ignore now. She started to peel off her dripping-wet coat, but quickly abandoned the notion—it hurt to move. As much as she hated to admit it, she was no good up on deck like this; she would simply have to wait belowdecks until the storm had subsided.

Still, as the ship was buffeted by wave after wave, she couldn't help but wish that there was more she could do, and so to distract herself, she let her mind wander.

That quickly proved to be a mistake—even now, her thoughts kept returning to her meeting with Calypso. _"The one he loves is not you…"_ And now that the thought was back in her conscious mind, she couldn't seem to force it away. She knew it did her little good to dwell on something she couldn't change, but that knowledge brought her no comfort now.

She drew a ragged breath as she fought back tears and winced again—crying was clearly out of the picture; it hurt her ribs too much. She wondered for a moment if they might be broken, and made a mental note to ask Maccus to look at them later, satisfying herself for now with trying to find somewhere where she could wait out the storm at least semi-comfortably.

It was another hour and a half before the storm passed and Jones came and found her.

"I saw you hit the deck before I sent you below," he said in form of greeting, his thick accent combined with the fact that he was almost mumbling making him rather difficult to understand. "Are you alright?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Mairi said after a moment's hesitation. "I may have broken something when I hit the railing."

Jones cursed. "And us without a surgeon now, too, of course…"

She shifted her weight where she sat perched on the edge of a barrel, her sharp intake of breath making Jones's frown deepen.

"Do you mind letting me have a look," he asked impulsively.

"I suppose not…" She struggled to her feet and walked over, letting him carefully slip her coat off her shoulders. His fingers grazed the skin of her neck, and she fought back the urge to visibly shudder as chills ran down her spine; the closeness was almost too much for her to take, and knowing that this was all she was ever going to get brought the familiar stab of heartache once again.

"There's no blood, at least," Jones muttered, shocking her out of her thoughts. "That's good…" His fingers drifted to the hem of her shirt and he cleared his throat awkwardly, and Mairi realized that the gesture was meant to be a request for permission to proceed.

Fighting against the flush she could feel creeping into her features, she simply nodded to him, and he lifted the material with one hand, the other ghosting over her skin, carefully feeling for a break.

"Nothing appears to be broken," he said after what felt like an eternity, lowering the material back into place. "You're developing some very nasty bruises and will likely be sore for a while, however… Perhaps you should take it easy for the next few days."

Mairi shook her head. "You and I both know that's not an option," she said stubbornly. "We can barely run the ship right now… The men need me to help them."

"You'll be little help if you can scarcely move, Mairi," Jones snapped, and immediately regretted it, but Mairi pressed on.

"If nothing else, I can stand at the helm. That frees Maccus up to work the decks; he's stronger than I am anyway, and you and I both know that he can do my job just as well as I can… I just happen to yell louder."

Jones nodded his concession—Maccus certainly did know his way around a ship; Mairi and her brother had been famous for racing each other to complete tasks when they had first joined the _Dutchman_'s crew. They were more or less equally matched—what Maccus lacked in agility, he made up for in strength.

"I'll be on deck if you need me, then, Captain," Mairi said a bit awkwardly, and when Jones nodded wordlessly, she drifted up the steps and back to the aft castle, asking her brother to take to the decks as she took the helm, part of her still clinging desperately to the memory of what had just occurred moments before below decks— the single most precious memory she had.


End file.
